


Sprained wrists and revelations

by arthur_177



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BDSM, D/s, M/M, More plot than porn, Whips and mild bloodplay, avengers kinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_177/pseuds/arthur_177
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is still trying to determine what to make of this and how to respond to the situation when Barton says, still out of breath, “Well, that was fun, and I'm certainly not complaining, but I got the impression that that wasn't quite what you had in mind, sir”. The lights are dimmed, but Phil can still see the way Barton grins at him, the way there is mischief in his eyes, but also too much knowledge. “Although, if my impression was right, I probably shouldn't be calling you 'sir' right now.”</p>
<p>Or: Phil wouldn't consider himself to be a man with trust issues; but there is trust, and then there is the kind of trust one needs to submit to someone. He's accepted that SHIELD is deserving of the former, and that he is unlikely to find the latter.<br/>Enter Clint Barton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sprained wrists and revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, there was an avengers kinkmeme prompt (http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/11065.html?thread=23462201#t23462201, essentially 'Phil is a masochist but hasn't found anyone trustworthy enough yet), and instead of writing the 2k worth of simple BDSM I'd planned, plot and introspection and generally a lot less porn than expected happened. 
> 
> Warnings for mentions of torture and abusive past relationships are probably in order, although those are only mentioned in single sentences and not major plot points, but caveat lector as always.
> 
> This is I think the longest fandom thing I've written and posted in my life, so I should perhaps return to the policy of pointing out that I have no beta, so apologies for any issues that might have caused. I've done my best, but I'm aware that it's easy to overlook things when editing one's own writing, especially if it's something about five times as long as originally anticipated. It's also something that has been bugging me for weeks, so I'm posting it now before this turns into something that has been bugging me for longer and is even more wordy.

It's only 9 am, and so far Phil has coordinated the evacuation of a R & D lab which might blow up, finished the reports and debriefs from the A.I.M. Facility raid they conducted last night, listened to Sitwell complain about the coffee in the cafeteria, made Sitwell listen to him complain about the missions featuring outrageous marks which always end up being his responsibility, shouted at R&D for causing a lab to blow up (again) and started to do the paperwork for the latter three incidences [Internal Complaints IV, Internal Complaints XIII, Internal Damage of Equipment II]. One of the scientists has apologetically brought him better coffee, but that doesn't quite cut it.

Phil loves his job, but sometimes, usually at about 9 am on a day like this, he wishes he got time off from all of this sometimes.

He doesn't wish he got someone he could trust enough to help him unwind in the less ...usual ways Phil finds helpful in these matters. At least not at 9 am. But just before the two hours of sleep which he eventually gets, he sometimes does.

If there were forms for this sort of thing, Phil would write himself up for outlandish hopes and unrealistic expectations. He should know better by now than to expect to find that level of trustworthiness combined with a willingness to engage in such matters. He's old enough to have learned that lesson.

 

_Phil is 24, and he's not ashamed of sex in general or what he likes in particular, but there is discussing things in an anonymous forum, and there is sitting in a bar and being asked to say exactly what he likes and wants to and from a near-stranger. They don't even get to the negotiating bit, and Phil marks it down as the first of a long list of unsuccessful and frustrating attempts at having the very private part of a private life._

_When SHIELD congratulates him on his first interrogation and asks where he learned to deflect and prompt people to talk to him instead of answering their questions, Phil smiles and invents a college professor and a seminar group survival tactic._

 

_Phil is 26, and he likes the guy well enough (intelligent, charming smile, nice voice, generally attractive). They are matched pretty well on the interest front as well – guy's done a lot of things, Phil's thought of a lot of things, and the interest in who'd be doing what and who'd be taking what would work out to mutual benefit. Except there is something about the guy that makes Phil uneasy, and even when the distrust fades for long enough to advance to the kissing stage, it comes back with a vengeance quickly. They part amicably, but a part of Phil feels like he's dodged a bullet._

_When Fury asks him how he managed to maintain an image of being the inferior one in the negotiation while at the same time calling the shots and getting personnel to write him up the most demanding contract any junior agent ever got, Phil deadpans that he'd always been a toppy bottom._

_Fury laughs and buys him a drink. It takes Phil ten years to realize that Fury knew he meant it even then._

 

_Phil is 38 and has been in HYDRA captivity for a week, so he reckons he is allowed to be unprofessional for once, and so, instead of finding a scathing verbal reply, he punches the guy in the face. It takes him about five minutes to calm down enough to say “This is not a joking matter, Agent, and I'd rather you got out of here before I felt inclined to resort to violence again”, and another five minute before a nurse all but floors the agent, complaining about ripped-out IVs and upsetting the patients. News travel fast, certainly when you're the Director, so twenty minutes after that Nick Fury is sitting next to his bed and asks whether Phil thinks he should make a formal affair out of this and write Phil up for assaulting a fellow agent, or whether he'd argue the agent was way out of line. Phil says he doesn't want preferential treatment, hence the former. Fury sighs and asks what the agent did._

“ _He said I liked it and probably asked for more, sir.”_

_Phil is tired, and the painkillers haven't kicked in yet, and he just wants to sleep instead of having to explain to Director Fury that yes, he likes to be tied up and whipped under certain circumstances, yes, he was foolish to divulge that information to another agent, although he did have his reasons at the time, and no, 'certain circumstances' did not include 'while being tortured by a rather skilled HYDRA interrogator'._

_Fury's face goes tight, and he says “In that case, I'll write you a commendation for not breaking any of his bones.” Phil has known Nick Fury for a while now, but he still manages to surprise Phil now and then. Fury squeezes his shoulder and is halfway out the room before he turns and adds, quietly, “And damn, Phil, I'll hear not a word against you as an agent, but you're useless with regards to your personal life. Promise me never to get involved with an asshole of a dom like that again.”_

_When Phil asks Nick how he knew, how long he'd known, Fury just smiles and asks if he thought they made you director just for looking menacing with an eyepatch._

 

Fury assigns him to a new agent with a barely suppressed smile that makes Phil, who normally doesn't question Nick Fury, ask why him and what the catch is.

Fury says the agent would break any other handler in a day, and that the perks of making someone a Level 7 is that you get to assign complicated assets to them.

Phil is still in a state of disapproval concerning the latest lab explosion-bad coffee combination, so he completely misses the implications in Fury's voice when the Director suggests that he go and observe his new agent on the range, and that perhaps he'll take to him in a number of ways despite his expectations.

 

When Phil gets to the range, the agent in charge shrugs at him in that 'what can you do' way Phil has come to associate with unbearably difficult assets, and tells the similarly resigned technician to put up the targets wherever Agent Barton wants the damn things.

Phil observes how Agent Barton, who is a full head shorter than the technician and not particularly imposing next to the weapons development guy he's currently putting on hold with a gesture as he explains why the targets are at the wrong distance, manages to nevertheless convey the impression that he is the one running the place.

Given that he manages all of this while wearing regulation training gear which consists of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and while holding a bow of all things, makes it even more impressive.

Phil nods sympathetically as the agent in charge of the range explains with an illuminating number of expletives how Barton has been giving them grief ever since he got on base, going through the regular armoury in a day and then demanding that they make him a better bow and set up the range for archery practice. He can already see why Fury would consider Barton the type to break handlers.

 

When they have the range set up and the technician as well as the weapons development agent have similarly complained to Phil, he allows himself a while to simply observe Barton. There is something relaxing in watching him shoot, watching how he draws and aims, watching how he runs his hand over his bow before putting it down carefully and walking to the targets to retrieve his arrows. There is also something attractive about the way he managed to commandeer the range as a probationary agent, and how he moves, all tight muscles and intense concentration, when he holds the bow. Phil allows himself to get distracted, and he doesn't quite realize that his brain had gone to highly inappropriate places until he catches himself imagining how Barton would sound if he was ordering someone to call him sir and to get on their knees, how the muscles in Barton's arms and back would move if he was holding a whip.

Phil blinks, compartmentalizes and thinks that he should probably talk to Barton about not alienating range and weapons personnel. He also thinks that he needs to pay more attention to Fury, because it may be classified information, but the Director does have a sense of humour, and this definitively looks like it had been done with an agenda in mind.

 

He files Barton away as 'intriguing and out of bounds' and pretends he means his choice of weapon and treatment of other SHIELD agents.

 

Phil is good at compartmentalizing, and he forgets about any thoughts he might have had concerning Agent Barton after two days which are mostly spent trying to undo the damage Barton has done to sensibilities or morale. It takes him a week and all of his skills as a handler to get Barton to stop enraging R&D, taking apart the range, and inventing betting pools and rumours which in short term may be highly entertaining to everyone but on the long run will provide damaging. Once Barton comes around, they operate on a system of mutual bribery [Phil gets Barton a new uniform which is more amenable to an archer's requirements, Barton gets Phil coffee and semi-correctly filled out forms] until Fury decides that they're semi-functional enough to go on a mission.

 

The mission goes to hell within the first ten minutes, the building Barton has his nest in all but explodes, and Phil is still shouting orders and arranging for back-up when he finds Barton, a figure in black half-buried under the rubble, hand still clutching a broken bow.

Phil has basic medical training and isn't one for theatrics in any case, so he doesn't carry Barton out of the ruins. He calls for medical personnel while he gets dust all over his suit to reach for Barton's throat and check for a pulse.  
It's not until he's handed Barton over to the paramedics and finished coordinating the clean-up that he allows himself to let the relief that he found a pulse wash over him.

 

Phil has nearly lost an asset, and one he's only had for a week, so he does not see the need to overanalyse his feelings towards not loosing Barton on their first mission. Barton tells Phil in no uncertain terms that as far as he is concerned, he's only with SHIELD because that was the best of a number of bad options, but that he thinks he can work with a guy who ruins his suit while making sure he's ok.

 

The mutual bribery stops after that. Barton still alienates people and attacks property and sensibilities. Phil has never had an asset that made 'damage control' appear as the primary objective of being a handler.

 

When Fury asks Phil if he wants Barton to be reassigned to a different handler, Phil says no.

 

Phil is a professional, so he pushes his thoughts concerning Barton to the part of his brain that is only granted access to his conscious thought processes at 3 in the morning after a rough mission when he needs to unwind. He is aware of the issues with mechanisms like that, but for the time being, it allows him to smile at Barton and tell him, not unkindly, to quit flirting over the comms and get his reports in within two months of a mission.

 

Of course Barton, in whose nature it seems to be difficult, then proceeds to do things like asking Phil to come to the range to help him sort out an issue with his bow.

 

Phil is a good handler, so he goes to fix whatever his asset has broken now, even if it's two in the morning and he has a sprained wrist from the last time he had a disagreement with someone working for Hydra.

 

Phil is a lot of things, but an archer is not among those, so he spends a frustrating twenty minutes in conversation with Barton where Barton complaints about things that are perfectly obvious to him and Phil tries and fails to identify the part of the bow that is at fault when Barton gets side-tracked with a rant on what R&D did with the riser that messes with his nocking point.

 

In the end, Barton catches on to the fact that Phil isn't deliberately trying to be unhelpful and pushes the bow into Phil's hand with a 'Just try to put yourself into my shoes, sir – trust me, it doesn't work, it doesn't feel right. Here, have a go'.

 

Barton pushes the bow into his hand and positions himself in a way he deems helpful to show Phil what exactly the issue that his handler has been refusing to get for the past twenty minutes is, and Phil is acutely aware of three things. One, the bow is heavy – not unbearably so, certainly not unpleasantly so, but sufficiently enough for medical to berate him about it tomorrow. Two, Barton is in his element, and if Phil thought it was a thing of beauty in the field, this is a whole new dimension, because Barton, who acts as if explanations and teaching was something that required rank and degrees and thus pertained to other people, is changing tack every couple of minutes whenever he realizes that Phil isn't with him when he talks about dominant eyes and R&D trying to build a recurve with a compound in mind somehow.

Phil tries very hard to focus on two, or even one, because three is Barton saying, 'No, sir, you've got to hold it differently, you've got to feel it', and when Phil doesn't catch on as fast as Barton would like, Barton steps closer, slides his hand down Phil's arm, and covers his hand with his own as he makes Phil lift the bow and change his grip.

Phil has a sprained wrist, and Barton doesn't quite squeeze it, but he's applying too much pressure too close to the site of injury. Phil should focus on remedying this situation.

Instead, what Phil focusses on is a) how close Barton is to him, how he can feel his breathing and smell his aftershave, and b) how the slight pressure Barton places on his wrist sends signals that bypass his rational brain altogether.

Barton says “You're doing great, sir, I think you're almost there”, and shifts his grip a little, and Phil has been fighting valiantly, but he's only human after all, and the sound he makes is as far from a declaration of pain as it could be.

Barton saves him the embarrassment by misunderstanding completely - “Fuck, sir, I forgot you were injured, why didn't you say anything? Here, let me hold that again – I'm sorry, I didn't get you too badly, did I?”, and Phil wishes he had the courage to tell him that if there is one thing Barton hasn't inflicted on him, it's discomfort.

He tells Barton that he's fine, and to think nothing of it.

 

Phil is very aware that SHIELD has eyes everywhere, and he is very aware that he is only human. He deletes video and IR footage for the range, just in case someone is having a slow day and bothers to watch closely enough to figure out that as far as Phil's body is concerned, Barton might as well have been in the process of foreplay with added archery. He copies Agent Hill into the relevant forms as even Level 7 agents have to observe protocols, adding a reasonable excuse.

 

Half an hour later, Hill replies that she'll sign off on the deletion and file the report, but, for his information, nobody needed IR, or indeed range video footage, to be able to see Phil's thing for Barton.

 

 

_Phil met a couple in a café once. Off-duty, but with all the reservations a SHIELD agent brings to everything. They introduced themselves as Wolfgang and Ophelia, and he introduced himself as Steve. It was a very inspiring afternoon, and at the end of the day they'd shaken hands and wished each other the best for finding someone suited to their respective needs.  
Ophelia had kissed him on the cheek and said that she hoped he could come to an agreement with whoever it was he was thinking of whenever he thought of a way to describe his ideal dom. _

_Phil had elected to think nothing of it, officially._

_If he started thinking of more things than his job requirements encouraged him to do the next time Barton squeezed his wrist with a smile that might be interpreted as 'knowing' and 'full of promises' by anyone not properly debriefed with regards to the matter at hand, that was between him and..well, not people he'd met in a café once._

_And certainly not him and Barton._

 

 

“Nice job keeping me away from disciplinary action, sir”, Barton says, the smile obvious in his voice. He appears slightly out of breath, slightly distracted by the potential of the circumstances. “Believe me, I'm very grateful. You did well, sir. I think you should have a reward for that. Now, hands on the wall, if you'd be so kind, Phil.”

Phil isn't vocal in these matters, not normally, at least, and so he is sparse with his response, but the odd 'you can hit me harder than that', and 'yes, just there', and 'Barton, please' may or may not have slipped out at one point or another.

He slips into something that isn't quite subspace, but he comes with a 'sir, I am going to... thank you, thank you, sir' nevertheless.

Reaching for the box of tissues on his nightstand is a familiar exercise. Looking at the ceiling wondering when he started thinking of Barton like that is not.

He's going to ask Fury to assign another handler to Barton tomorrow as this is highly unprofessional.

 

They are deployed right after debrief the next morning. Phil knows how to bite his tongue and repress unsuitable reactions. He gets them through the mission without a hitch. And the next one, and the one after.

 

At the end of the year, they are such a good team that Phil considers it unprofessional to break up the unit simply because he occasionally allows himself to engage in thoughts in the privacy of his bedroom.

 

Barton figures out he can get under his skin with flirting, so he makes an extra effort to keep his distance. He is very proud of himself. He can have a thing for his asset which is inappropriate on so many levels and still maintain a professional working relationship. He is certain Fury, who knows about him, would approve.

 

He doesn't get a chance to talk to Fury for a while, but Hill starts to glare at him as if he was the only one in all of SHIELD who was behaving like a complete moron about potential personal issues related to the organisation. He doesn't think it's quite fair, or quite appropriate, but he can live with disdain. It wouldn't be the first time.

 

 

He gives Barton his mission parameters and tells him to stay on the comms, but please, for once, Barton, in a professional manner. Barton all but leers at him and acknowledges. Phil takes up position in the abandoned warehouse's basement and observes the mission falling apart around them, Barton only barely making it through because he decides to abandon protocol and take initiative against all regulations and call shots himself.

 

The team is pulling itself together, barely, and Barton is still alive, but Phil's heartrate and brain are doing things they haven't done in decades, and that's how Barton finds him.

 

In retrospect, Phil doesn't quite know why it happened, or how it deteriorated to this and this quickly, but as matters stand, Phil is having a panic attack. That in itself is not a problem – he hasn't had one in decades, but he has coping mechanisms. He'll deal with it, and it'll pass.

The problem is Barton, who just walked in on Phil having a panic attack, and that is not the way it is supposed to go, how can his asset ever trust him again if he knows his handler can't keep it together at all times, and this is something he never wanted anyone of SHIELD to see, let alone Barton, so this situation is unacceptable and by now probably beyond salvaging. He doesn't think he said any of that aloud, but he knows he is hyperventilating. He also knows that Barton is looking shocked for a split second, but instead of fear or disgust there is concern on his face which is replaced by something else, something too much like the calm confidence he as the handler should be projecting to his asset, not the other way round. He suppresses a sob but isn't quite successful.

Barton sounds a bit shaken, but his voice is calm enough as he says “The parameter's secured, hostile force is down, and SHIELD's clearing the area. We're good, sir. Also, I think you're having a panic attack, so I'm going to try and do something about that, if that's ok with you.” Phil is vaguely aware of the fact that he nods, and then Barton is by his side, has his jacket put around him and hands him a bottle of water, urging him to drink. Barton is in his personal space, and still smells of gunpowder and soot and sweat and blood, and his hands are warm on Phil's shoulders. This is something to focus on. Focus is good.

Barton starts talking, meaningless – meaningful? - things like “You did good, sir, couldn't have done it without you” and “Drink some more, it'll make things better; don't worry, I've got you”, and at some point he stops saying 'sir' and starts saying 'Phil', and Phil doesn't quite realize that he has his head on Barton's shoulder and that his mind is going places it shouldn't until he is calm again and relief and gratitude floods over him and says “Thank you, sir” to Barton.

 

And that breaks the moment, and broken Phil is back to being Agent Coulson of SHIELD, except much more embarrassed than normal. “Barton”, he says, and tries to think of a way out of that situation. Phil is good at ways out, that's why he's a handler, that's why he's a Level 7. He's good at this sort of thing, except when it's him and Barton and Barton's just provided aftercare in all but name and he's called Barton 'sir', the implications of which should be obvious. “Agent Barton”, he tries again, and he can't quite read the expression in Barton's eyes, but all he says is “Sir, you just had a panic attack, don't go and have another one. If it makes you feel better, I'm happy to forget any of this ever happened.” Phil exhales. Of course, Barton is a professional as well. Of course, the relief doesn't last. “But.” “But?” There goes his integrity then, and probably his ability to work with Barton again. “But. In case you.. you don't want me to forget, and you'd be willing to clear a couple of things up for me, 'cause I'm not sure I'm reading this right, then.. well, we could go for dinner after we're done with cleanup and debrief?”

 

In the end, Phil agrees to dinner, albeit slightly reluctantly. When they join the rest of the agents, Phil is back to being Agent Coulson of SHIELD again, and he orders Barton to join the group doing the clean-up in sector 5. He watches and listens carefully, but there is nothing lingering or mocking about the way Barton adds 'sir' to his affirmation.

Phil exhales. He has a cleanup to coordinate. The mess of his personal life can wait until dinner.

 

Dinner is pleasant and a disaster at the same time. Barton has never done debrief like this, and Phil has never done debrief like this with someone he... with someone he knew better than a number of subject-focussed emails allow anyone to know anyone. Barton keeps initiating and then backtracking, and Phil remembers all the reasons why this is a bad idea every time he tries to steer the conversation in a particular direction, so he changes the topic until Barton addresses a new one and then backtracks after a couple of sentences. Barton asks Phil to call him Clint and keeps calling Phil 'sir' while fidgeting with his hands, clearly curious, but clearly unsure how to handle this, and Phil keeps calling Clint 'Agent Barton' while wondering whether he'll work up the courage to tell Barton what exactly he'd like to be the result of this discussion after the next glass of wine.

 

After the next glass of wine he offers to pay for a taxi to get Barton home, and the relief on Clint's face would be almost worth it, were it not for the part where Phil has to wonder whether he is relieved that he doesn't have to walk home or whether this is more about the part where they were supposed to have a much more serious conversation which he just got Barton a way out of.

 

He gets the taxi driver to wait for him and walks Barton to his door. The fact that Barton doesn't have a quip for that, that there is no 'how gentlemanly of you, sir, but you should know that I don't put out on the first date' joke to reaffirm normal ground between him and Agent Clint 'never at a loss for an annoying but witty reply' Barton, tells Phil more than he is comfortable with knowing. But Phil has been trained for a lot of things, and he has picked up sufficient skills to deal with matters like the one at hand on top of that.

 

He folds his hand around Barton's as his agent fumbles for his keys, guiding his hand. He is keenly aware that he is in Barton's personal space and refuses to acknowledge that it may be slightly more deliberate than accidental.

 

He says “You should be aware, Agent Barton, that any matters concerning Level 7 Agents are beyond classified.” Barton looks back at him over his shoulder, and Phil regrets the bad move, because he is not sure whether Barton is going to punch him or refuse to speak to him again given the iciness in his eyes.

 

He says “However, should you be inclined to have a follow-up debrief concerning this matter, you know where to find me”, and he hopes it's enough.

 

He hopes Barton will be willing to cut him some slack, given that SHIELD doesn't really recruit based on social skills and abilities to negotiate personal affairs and matters of intimacy.

 

For the time being, Barton gives him a tight smile and shuts the door in his face.

 

 

Weeks pass, and Phil has accepted the matter as a failure to write off and not contemplate unduly when Barton hands him a mission report without looking at him.

 

He is tempted to indulge in worry of a potential compromise of SHIELD, but mostly in self-pity, for a moment when Barton says “The report you requested, sir” far too formally and far too unlike anything Phil associates with Barton. He nods and tries to focus on a damage control scenario when Barton hands him the file without even hiding that he's doing his best not to touch Phil's hand in the process.

 

Barton is out of his office by the time Phil sees the 'So, sir, I was thinking... dinner tonight, 8 pm?' note on the second page of the report.

 

He emails Barton with an impersonal 'Regarding your mission report: Consider your idea approved - proceed as per suggestion.'.

 

He does not give any indication that he is almost as relieved as he was when he first pulled Barton from the rubble after a mission gone wrong and finally found a weak but existing pulse in the archer's throat. SHIELD doesn't recruit based on skills regarding personal affairs.

 

Dinner is a matter of grabbing takeaway before ending up on the couch in Phil's apartment. Phil had planned to be gentlemanly about it like the first time, but Barton puts the cardboard containers of stir-fry on the table and a hand on Phil's chest, and all thoughts of gentlemanly behaviour dissipate for a moment in which Phil feels nothing but the warmth of Barton's hand and the potential that maybe, Barton would be amenable to Phil's proclivities, that Barton would allow Phil to take, to receive what he needs.

 

The moment fades, and Phil opens his mouth to explain the situation to Barton.

 

Barton, however, has never been one for patience or lengthy discussions.

 

In retrospect, Phil is proud of the succinctness of the conversation for the next 30 minutes. The only words spoken are requests for supplies and a relocation of activities to a more suitable base. Barton is too close, and too heavy, and just right, and Phil tells him the whats and whereabouts as if this was a mission, as if this was familiar. Phil is not quite sure what to make of that.

 

Barton breathes more quickly, the way he does after an op which nearly went down the drain but in which he still managed to make all the crucial shots. Phil has to bite his tongue not to say that the op was a success and that Barton did well and can stand down now. This isn't familiar.

 

Phil is still trying to determine what to make of this and how to respond to the situation when Barton says, still out of breath, “Well, that was fun, and I'm certainly not complaining, but I got the impression that that wasn't quite what you had in mind, sir” The lights are dimmed, but Phil can still see the way Barton grins at him, the way there is mischief in his eyes, but also too much knowledge. “Although, if my impression was right, I probably shouldn't be calling you 'sir' right now.”

 

Phil blames post-mission exhaustion and post-coital bliss and the fact that Barton is splayed across his bed as if he owned the place and as if this was something he and Phil did all the time, as if this was normal, usual, nothing outstanding, for the fact that he deigns that with a reply in the first place.

 

He blames himself for telling Barton the truth, everything, with all the details Barton would need to know if they were to go down this road.

 

He expects to regret every single word until Barton says, not something expectable like 'So the cliché's true and the guys in the nice suits and positions of power do really just want to be punished and call someone else 'sir', huh' or 'Never expected someone like you to be that kinky', but 'I'm sorta new to this, so you'd have to give me a couple of pointers, but if that's alright, then.. yeah, I'm on board'.

 

 

He looks at the scratches on his shoulder the next morning after he's showered – neat lines, the exact distance he's observed between Barton's fingers countless times as he drew the bow string, eyes for nothing but the target, ears for nothing but what Phil needed him to do. Phil knew that he'd trusted Clint Barton, had trusted him even before he had reason to logically confirm his trustworthiness, but he hadn't exactly planned for this type of trust-requiring environment. He had considered Clint Barton to be someone who'd take to new situations either with a shrug and disinterest, or with a witty response and a fighting attitude.

 

The first time Clint smiles at him in a pensive manner, asking him to clarify a particular aspect, he wonders if it was maybe himself who, for doubting Barton's intentions and abilities, was undeserving of the trust placed in him.

 

Contrary to Phil's expectations (fears, wildest hopes, something along those lines), Barton (who'd become Clint far too quickly for Phil to realize what he was getting himself into) takes to it like a fish to water. Phil admires the way Clint – Barton – approaches the matter like he does anything – as a challenge, as a new skill to be learned to make him better, as something which would naturally fall within his abilities because Phil Coulson never asked him to do things beyond his capabilities. The latter part gives him pause, more pause than he is comfortable with most days, but in the meantime, he allows himself to smile at the way Clint slides his fingers across the blade of the knife Phil had produced from his collection, the way he tilted his head in concentration in exactly the way he would if this was a mission and not a day on which Phil had handed him a knife and explained to him that he did in fact like it that rough.

 

In his experience, people reacted in a variety of ways – mostly with a 'you're sick, how can you think I'd do this sort of stuff' type response, otherwise with timidity, with a 'but I don't want to hurt you' and 'are you sure this is a good idea?'.

 

Barton says 'I need parameters for this – where, how many, how deep, what sort of context or foreplay. Talk to me, Phil.'

 

They don't end up doing a scene until much later. Barton seems to be happy with Phil's tendency to grab and kiss him in a mildly overwhelmed manner.

 

_Some things, they do very rarely; some things become rituals after missions gone wrong, gone well, concluded in manners each of them has their specific issues with. They debrief, they let medical clear them, complete bloodworks and all, and they go home; and then Clint ties him to the bed and takes a knife to his shoulder – just two lines, simple patterns, like Norse runes [much later, Phil will consider the irony of that, but not then, not now]. It gives them both a chance to focus – Phil on the familiarities of his bed and Clint's aftershave and the knowledge that this is the type of pain that is safe, that will be followed by disinfectant and a bandage and a kiss, and not questions he cannot answer ('Don't you love me', an abusive partner asked him once, knife still in hand. 'We just need this one thing from you, Agent Coulson', a Hydra scientist told him once, a sympathetic look in her eyes as she pushed the knife under his thumbnail. This is his past; the present is nothing like it). Sometimes, after, when Clint has tended to his wounds, the sharp sting of the disinfectant a pleasant reminder that no matter how much Phil, if perhaps not Clint, needs this on a bad day, this is always about being safe, about taking care of each other, Phil lies awake for a while, wondering how it came to be that after decades of wishing and eventually abandoning foolish hopes, he now has a man curled up next to him who doesn't identify as a dom at all but who nevertheless takes care of Phil's needs with as much diligence as he does of his bow._

 

They are professionals, so Barton hangs his head when Fury chews him out for nearly blowing a mission by disobeying orders and nearly dying at an inconvenient point, something which gets Fury angry enough to threaten to demote Phil to Level 3 and get Clint assigned to a new handler. He says 'I'm sorry, sir' quietly when Phil tears him a new one after that because _I don't even care about the blatant disregard of orders, Barton, but you nearly got yourself killed there._ There is them, and there is SHIELD. It's as simple as that.

 

Clint's voice is still shaking when he asks if Phil wants to grab food together later, or something like that (Clint never says 'Phil, I need.' It's always 'Do you want to go coffee, sir', or 'I read this thing about different paddle-type things, and I was wondering if that's something you're missing so far'. Phil never quite got around to addressing that, this question where he doesn't know what it is that Clint gets out of their … arrangement. He puts it down on the list of things to deal with next week, although he should know better by now than to make such lists while working for SHIELD). Phil doesn't feel like dinner, but they end up in his apartment anyway, and Barton is sore from the stake-out and Phil is raw from nearly having lost his best asset, but after an hour he sighs and leans into the restraints, and Barton makes a choked sound before he catches himself and says, sternly, 'I need you to trust me to watch out for both of us, Phil. I think you should have something to remind you of that for next time. Can you take another five for me, Phil?”.

 

Phil doesn't give a damn that they're doing this the wrong way round when he ends up with his hand in Clint's hair as Clint cries into his shoulder. He alternates between calling Clint Clint and calling him sir as he tells him how proud he is of him, what good care he took of Phil, how Phil trusts him with anything, how they're going to be fine, always.

 

Clint falls asleep with his head on Phil's chest, Phil's arm still wrapped around him protectively. The next morning, Clint, rather than looking embarrassed, puts a mug of coffee in front of Phil and asks him straight-out whether they're still ok since he gathered that that wasn't what he was supposed to be doing, what with him being the toppy person in this sort of thing and all.

 

Phil hadn't realized how worried he'd been about all of this until Clint Barton, in an ultimate display of being Clint Barton, said 'the toppy person, and all that' to his face.

 

He tells Clint that he's in this because of Clint, not because he wanted a random toppy person and a' that, and drinks his coffee. Clint grins and kisses him, managing to nearly knock over the coffee mug and get coffee all over his semi-edited mission report in the process. Phil tells him off for it. Clint says he'll make up for it later. It's the same type of innocent innuendo that he always had on the comms, and for some reason Phil is incredibly grateful for this normality. He's still not sure what he makes of having Clint Barton in his bed as well as on the other end of his comm.

 

_Barton alternates between quiet and bragging about matters, but in this, he opts for quiet and reserved. Consequently, the fact that they end up in a club in Germany after a mission on the continent, Clint wearing leather pants and a collar and Phil a black suit, is unusual, but Phil is willing to let the publicity of the thing slide given the circumstances they just left behind. Clint buys Phil a drink and makes small-talk with the woman who sits next to him, a riding crop balanced on her thighs as she sips from a glass of wine and pets the hair of the sub kneeling next to her. Clint calls Phil sir as he suggests he might go and relax a bit, what with the club having a pretty decent-looking St Andrew's cross and a number of safe things to play with, and Phil calls Clint Clint and indicates that he'd perhaps like that._

_The woman sips her wine and tells them that they have the most fascinating dynamic she's ever seen._

_Phil is inclined to agree._

 

Barton keeps the collar (because of the way it makes Phil look at him, he says), but he tells Phil that he doesn't like clubs. Phil can live with that.

Clint tells him that he likes their 'fascinating dynamic' though, and Phil drags Clint towards him by the collar and kisses him to prevent himself from saying how much he can live with that and hopes to do so for a long time.

 

Things at SHIELD should have long ceased to surprise him, but Director Fury has a particular gift for the unexpected, and so Phil is mildly amazed that it is him who ends up getting the Nick Fury version of the shovel talk.

 

It's more a 'if you let him hurt you, I will punch you in the face and assign you to Tony Stark' talk than a traditional shovel talk, but Phil gets the message.

 

Or at least he thought he did.

 

When what Phil calls the inevitable and Hill calls 'the things that happen because Coulson is an idiot sometimes' happens, Fury doesn't punch him in the face, but he does assign him to Tony Stark.

 

Both Stark and Fury will be the last to know it, but he might actually deserve it.

 

 

Contrary to popular opinion, Nick Fury has a life outside SHIELD, and friends. Consequently, Phil finds himself with a ticket to a baroque concerto, and an explicit order to take the evening off.

Phil looks at the ticket and asks Fury why he presumes he'd like Bach.

Fury tells him he doesn't presume anything about his taste in music, but that he'll like the cellist.

 

Phil likes Bach. He also likes the cellist.

 

He keeps a spare suit in his office, but Fury still grins at him the next morning. Phil reckons you don't get to be director of SHIELD without knowing everything, including what your level 7 agents do after dark.

 

 

He tells Pepper about the cellist, but he doesn't _tell_ her about the cellist until things with Hammer go badly wrong and Stark nearly dies and Pepper looks like she could do with a drink and company. The way she says “No!”, as if there was no way Agent Coulson of SHIELD could have a side like that, makes him smile mischievously.

 

He doesn't tell her about Barton.

 

 

Things happen, they have an amicable conversation, and the cellist moves back to Portland. Phil moves his old Captain America pyjamas back into the drawer he'd cleared out for her.

 

He doesn't think about the fact that the drawer he'd cleared out for Barton is still empty.

 

 

Fury tells him Barton's been compromised. He looks at the footage, at the bright blue eyes and hard look that are nothing like the Clint Barton he knows and knows to trust with almost everything. He tries to ignore the way regret and fear is trying to tear him apart, and phones Natasha, because she needs to know, because they need her back on base.

He is grateful that she doesn't call him out on it when his voice hitches slightly as he tells her.

He wonders if he'll get a chance to make things between them right again.

 

They are facing an imminent alien threat, SHIELD is in disarray, and Phil has no time for this sort of thing, but the way Pepper says “No!” as if it was unbelievable that someone would abandon Phil for Portland (for anything) still makes something ache in him.

 

 

Against all odds, they win. Granted, before that happens, Loki nearly kills Phil, Clint nearly kills everyone on the Helicarrier, Natasha and Clint nearly kill each other, and from what Fury tells him, the guilt about everything nearly kills Clint. Phil has had enough near-death for one day, but he's not doing too well on the guilt front himself. He wants nothing more than to tell Clint that it's going to be alright, and to make things between them work again.

 

SHIELD doesn't recruit for interpersonal skills, and so when the doctor recommends that they increase his morphine dosis for the time being, he doesn't object too much. The drugs take away the pain, but they don't take away the bitterness he feels about the fact that he can face Loki with a gun and a valiant last stand speech, but that he does not dare face Clint with a confession of feelings.

 

 

Fury has the decency to tell Barton (under threat of grievous bodily harm, revoked range access and paperwork for the rest of his life should he share his knowledge with anyone else) that Phil's not dead, and so Phil wakes up one morning to find Clint passed out next to him but still clinging to his hand (though mindful of the IV), balanced precariously between the hospital bed and a chair.

 

Phil expects Barton to run for it when they are both awake and there is the potential that they might have to _talk_ about this.

 

Instead, Clint tells him he is sorry, for everything; and then when he's stopped crying and Phil has stopped telling him that it's alright, and that he is sorry too, Clint says that he's been wondering what might have happened to his drawer in Phil's apartment.

 

When Phil is finally discharged and told off for trying to work by Fury in a tone sufficient to actually make him go home, he finds Clint's bow-case on the -their – kitchen counter, and Clint asleep on the couch.

 

 

Once medical has cleared him for more than 'light duty', Clint one night asks him if he wants to go back to the way they were.

 

Phil says yes before he says no, and he asks Clint what he means (he doesn't think about the fact that he nearly died and still can't tell Clint straight-out what his hopes for this - for them – are).

 

Surprisingly, what Clint means is whether they could take a break from their usual dynamic, and so Phil finds himself faced with a shivering Clint Barton on his knees, and a whip.

 

 

Phil wouldn't exactly class himself as a switch, but he is confident and assertive enough to be willing and able to switch roles if circumstances necessitate. As far as current circumstances go, 'necessitate' would be an understatement.

 

It takes Clint longer than Phil to recover from the damage inflicted by Loki, but in the end, Phil allows himself to feel smug about the fact that Clint is breathing calmly next to him, undisturbed by nightmares, far sooner than psych had predicted.

 

They have vanilla sex (even though Phil hates the term) far more often now, and it's a rare night where Clint runs an exploring hand down his back before he proceeds to mark him. Clint smiles at him sleepily, one arm slung around the pillow and the other around Phil, and Phil takes a moment to marvel at the fact that he now looks at Clint's arms to think about the way his muscles move when he balances a tray with breakfast in one hand and carries his bow-case with Phil's files on top of it in the other. Somehow, the man he looked at as a potential temporary fling to give him what he needed turned out to be what he needed on another level, and far less temporary.

 

Clint laughs quietly, and kisses him. He also sinks his fingernails into Phil's back until Phil makes a noise Clint considers appropriate proof that he's ceased to be excessively introspective and philosophical about them. And this, this looking out for him, this making sure he gets what he needs in so many ways, is another reason why Barton deserves the trust Phil has placed in him long ago.

 

Once he's cleared for full duty again and Barton has officially moved into his -their- apartment, Phil gives Fury 20 bucks. Because in a way it's Fury's fault that he encountered something he hadn't seen before, he says, and it's only fair that if Rogers has to pay up for bets, Phil has to pay for bets that were made, implicitly, the day he was recruited.

 

Fury laughs and tells him to keep the money and save it towards a new whip.

 

Phil counts it among his blessing that he doesn't even have to pretend to be scandalized, and deadpans that if he tried to wean Barton off floggers, he'd spend all day pretending to be Indiana Jones.

 

13 years after Phil Coulson got out of a disciplinary hearing because Nick Fury knows everything, Fury tells him he's glad that he doesn't have to write him up for rubbish dating skills and taste in doms anymore.

 

 

 

 


End file.
